


a twist, a tale, a rip through my sail

by iPhone



Series: now i see daylight [7]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/F, References to Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca goes to visit Chloe in Atlanta.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: now i see daylight [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625614
Comments: 36
Kudos: 150





	a twist, a tale, a rip through my sail

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "To the Sea" by Seafret & Rosie Carney. You can see a wonderful visual [here](https://asimplefavors.tumblr.com/post/614785054791663616/beca-goes-to-visit-chloe-in-atlanta-read-the-fic) by Chloe. :)

**Age: 19**

**Atlanta, GA**

**August**

* * *

“Hey Bec, I think I must have just missed you...call me back when you can.”

*

“Hi Beca, I just wanted to call to say that I missed you. And I love you. Hope we can talk soon.”

*

“You just got back on the plane, but I miss you already, Chloe.”

*

“Bec, I don’t think I can swing coming to L.A. this weekend...it’s a lot of money. Call me back?”

*

“I’m trying not to be jealous of dumb tabloid stuff, I really am, but...just call me back, Beca.”

*

“Chlo, I know you said you were busy with school, but please let me know if you can give this song a listen. I think you’ll really like it. Love you.”

*

“I had a dream about you. Felt like you were right there. I miss you so much.”

* * *

_What do endings feel like?_

Beca feels it in the air between them the moment she comes face to face with Chloe at the airport. All the usual happiness upon seeing her girlfriend is still there, but God, it’s all the other things she feels—the intense foreboding, the anxiety, the _dread_ —that make her slow her steps as she nears Chloe who is leaning against a pole, evidently watching something on her phone.

She had felt it while she had been on the plane, but now, standing on the ground next to her girlfriend of three and a half years, she knows it is real.

“Hi,” Beca greets quietly, smiling nonetheless when she sees Chloe’s eyes lift and brighten upon catching sight of her.

Chloe immediately wraps her in a hug, nothing new. Beca squeezes back, sighing happily at the warmth Chloe brings to her immediately. She feels Chloe tighten her hold similarly.

Everything is so familiar.

Chloe pulls back. “Hi,” she greets back, finally. She cups Beca’s cheek, leaning in to kiss her gently. “I missed you.”

Beca smiles despite the sensation in her stomach. “I missed you too,” she mumbles, eagerly leaning up to ignite another kiss.

Everything is fine.

* * *

It had started with a few missed dates. Many missed dates. Angry voice mails.

Beca recalls each one now that she sits next to Chloe in the passenger seat of her car—a familiar car with many memories—and with each memory, anxiety gnaws at the back of her mind.

She resists the urge to reach across the console to place her hand on Chloe’s thigh even though she longs desperately for that closeness.

Chloe doesn’t look at her once the whole drive home.

* * *

It feels so routine—everything is routine, right down to Beca dropping her bag just inside the door to Chloe’s room, kicking the door closed with her heel, and immediately being pulled into Chloe’s arms for a deep, messy kiss. The kind of kiss that still makes Beca’s stomach twist in anticipation even after so many similar kisses.

Sex is routine now, especially with how little they see each other. Beca barely gets her shirt off before Chloe is pulling her jeans down, pulling her underwear down and licking through her folds like no tomorrow. It makes Beca gasp and moan and make every sound imaginable. _That_ is a skill only Chloe possesses, the skill to be able to draw those sounds out of Beca like art.

Beca grasps Chloe’s hair forcefully, keeping her girlfriend’s face between her legs as she rides out her orgasm, grunting as she does so. Vaguely she realizes that Chloe’s clothes are still on, even as Chloe carries her to the bed and spreads her legs once more, her fingers doing the work this time.

“I missed you so much,” Chloe rasps into Beca’s ear. Beca’s hands grab at the fabric of Chloe’s shirt. “I missed you,” Chloe repeats, breath hot against Beca’s ear.

Eyes falling shut at the sensation of Chloe’s lips trailing along her ear and her fingers curling into her aching cunt, Beca tells herself that it means _I love you._ Beca tries to tell herself that all of _this_ means _I love you. I want to be with you. I love you._

_I love you._

“I missed you too,” she mumbles, eyes slipping shut at the sensation of Chloe adding another finger.

She feels full.

Almost complete.

* * *

Chloe’s arm curls over her waist in the middle of the night. They sleep, pressed closely together. Like two peas in a pod, Chloe used to joke.

Beca breathes in deeply, holding Chloe’s arm against her in fear that she might let go. She wonders if Chloe has already let go, somehow. In the same ways Beca feels herself floundering.

But being in Chloe’s arms feels so right—feels like everything that Beca has ever been missing is right…there.

She presses Chloe’s arm tighter against herself, maneuvering it so she can clutch Chloe’s hand close to her chest.

Chloe mumbles in her sleep and presses closer, bare skin sticking to Beca’s. It is not uncomfortable. Rather, it is quite the opposite. It makes her feel whole, like a reminder that Chloe is there—that Chloe has always been there.

Emotion swells in Beca’s chest as her mind betrays her once more, playing back every last argument and fight they’ve had over the past little while.

To Beca, it had seemed like they recovered each time, but the scars would always remain.

 _Don’t let go,_ Beca thinks. _Please_.

To her credit, Chloe doesn’t. Not immediately, at least. She holds Beca close like she always has, lips pressed loosely against Beca’s shoulder, her neck. Breath hot against her neck. Even in sleep, Chloe had always managed to make Beca feel whole.

 _Don’t let go_ , she thinks again. Nearly begging.

Chloe does eventually. She lets go, early in the morning as Beca blinks awake, wondering if she got any sleep at all. She yawns, stretches, turning onto her back.

Beca immediately follows, rolling over to face Chloe to surprise her with a morning kiss.

Silently, Chloe responds, pulling Beca closer in the warmth of her dorm-sanctioned bed. Chloe’s lips part. Hot, wanting breath against Beca’s mouth.

She could say it, Beca thinks. Either of them could.

It just feels so much easier to pull Chloe on top of her. It just feels easier to have Chloe want her like this.

Simple.

* * *

It feels like a normal weekend. In fact, it should be a normal weekend. Beca is free from the confines of Los Angeles and happy to face relative anonymity in the sprawling spaces of Atlanta and Barden University. But the heavy weight of the turmoil clouding their relationship becomes near unbearable to Beca even as she nestles comfortably into Chloe’s side.

Chloe says nothing—it occurs to Beca that Chloe has said very little all weekend—and simply wraps her arm around Beca, like it is so natural.

Like it’s a habit.

“Are we okay?” Beca finally asks when her heart and mind can no longer take it. It is late on Saturday night and she is pressed closely to Chloe while they quietly watch a random Netflix show.

 _Watch_ is a loose term. Beca feels like she has been gazing despondently at the screen for the better part of the hour and based on the stiffness of Chloe’s arm around her, she figures Chloe is more or less the same.

She regrets asking immediately. She almost wishes she had kept her mouth shut just to pretend a few moments longer. She could just take it back, she could just let it all go. Just clamp her mouth shut and forget it all. But the regret is so heavy because now she _knows_. It is so different from mere belief or mere speculation. Knowledge, ever powerful, is her undoing.

She regrets it because Chloe hesitates. Chloe has never hesitated or been less than forthcoming in her responses to Beca. Beca cannot recall a time when Chloe’s blunt honesty hadn’t played a role in some part of their interactions with each other.

But _now_ , Chloe hesitates and her body seems to stiffen even more. There is pain in that hesitation, enough pain for the both of them.

That hesitation is enough. It is enough to make the anvil finally sink in Beca’s stomach.

And finally, because Chloe has always been honest with her no matter the circumstance, she opens her mouth and breathes out the simple syllables of Beca’s name. Like it might be the last time ever.

_This is the end. This is what it feels like._

* * *

The end goes something like this:

“Stop,” Beca says immediately, regretting everything from the beginning to the end. “Wait, I didn’t—”

“Beca,” Chloe repeats, sounding even more pained than before. “This isn’t working, you know it isn’t.”

“It is,” Beca insists. She refuses to cry. “I’m just tired, I just—I didn’t mean it—”

“Beca, stop,” Chloe murmurs.

“You stop,” Beca mumbles back, losing some of the fight in her when Chloe reaches for her hands. She marvels at how soft and warm Chloe’s hands are, wondering when the last time was that she had felt— _really, truly felt_ —the warmth of Chloe’s hands wrapped around her own. “Stop,” she repeats quietly.

“I’m not doing anything,” Chloe promises.

“You’re breaking up with me,” Beca says, finally putting the words out there in the open. “You’ve been breaking up with me for a while.”

At that, Chloe flinches and draws back. Beca forces her body to remain still. “I haven’t been doing that. That’s not fair. We both know this hasn’t been working for a while, but we both tried, Beca. I know we did.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are we...doing this?” The 'we' slips out. Beca doesn't even correct herself because she recognizes the lack of fight in her own emotions. 

“It hurts so much being apart from you,” Chloe whispers. “And even having you here, it’s not like you’re here at all." Chloe is quiet for a moment. "...and I think we just need some space to—”

Beca squeezes her eyes shut and barely refrains from putting her hands over her ears to block out the sounds Chloe is making. It sounds like a distant roaring in her ears, but she knows better: it is the sound of her world crumbling down around her.

To her credit, Chloe doesn’t finish her sentence. Beca doesn't know what to do. Chloe is crying, but so gently and softly that Beca's arms feel too leaden to be worthy of reaching up to brush her tears away. The truth of the situation is that Chloe likely has no idea what to say either; she likely is hurting as much as Beca is, but she has always been the strong one.

It feels like a disservice to Chloe if Beca didn’t begrudgingly admit that Chloe is probably _right_ for initiating this conversation now. It doesn’t hurt any less—it doesn’t make Beca feel any less of a failure despite Chloe’s reassurance that it was both of them who needed space.

It hurts the most that Chloe is right.

Chloe is still speaking, a quiet, gentle tone for Beca’s benefit. Beca simply nods, too numb to do much else. Chloe speaks of Beca's immeasurable talent, her growing fame, all the ways Beca needs to _grow_ without Chloe. 

A part of Beca wants to laugh at that because she has spent her _entire_ life growing _with_ Chloe. It seems kind of a waste to just...not do that anymore.

The other part thinks maybe there is some truth in the things Chloe is saying (and maybe in the things Chloe isn't explicitly saying). That's the part that had seen this coming. Beca should have listened.

Somewhere along the line, she reaches out to hold Chloe’s hand for what she’s sure will be her last time.

Somewhere along the line, Chloe tells her she loves her. That she’s in love with her.

Beca finds it in her to speak, forcing away the memories of her own parents’ divorce. Of the pain and loneliness. “I love you too,” she murmurs.

It is still the easiest and most honest thing to say.

* * *

Ultimately, it wasn’t the _end_ that crept up on Beca. Not entirely.

It is the loneliness that sneaks up on her. It had crept up on her, unbidden, then latched itself somewhere in the back of her mind without her knowledge. Somewhere between Chloe saying “I think we should break up” and the airport and the car ride home, loneliness had crept into every available space in her body.

She doesn’t realize it until she reaches home and drops her bag heavily by the door in an almost exact mirror of how she had dropped her bag in Chloe’s room a mere three days ago. Or had it been two?

Beca supposes that it doesn’t matter.

Her apartment air feels stale. She takes in a deep breath, wondering if it had always been like that or if she had only thought nothing of it because she had lived in a world where she had a Chloe Beale to eventually return to.

Now, there’s just _this_.

With a shaking hand, she reaches for her phone and presses her mother’s contact on impulse. It feels like something she ought to do—something that a child should do when she’s been devastated by incomparable heartbreak.

Her mother will know what to do, her mother can help, her mother can—

_“Hi, you’ve reached Diane. Unfortunately I can’t—”_

She isn’t sure what she expected, but she isn’t even surprised.

Beca finally lets herself cry.


End file.
